Stolen
by Kakashihasnicearms
Summary: France is an idiot. First, he decides it's a good idea to see Britain, who has a new little brother. Great idea! But then, even better! decides to steal America. China spots a small child in the forest. Why the hell is the little kid pounding rice to a sticky lump! ? This is all...just...so frustrating...but you know... it's kinda fun. Little brothers are so cute!
1. Confrontation

A/N: I totally ship USUK and UKUS, but this fic decided it didn't want yaoi. Well, not USUK UKUS yaoi. Just implied France and Britain. One sided. Poor France.

**Britain POV**

Britain had just put America to bed. America had, for some reason, gone to bed so willingly. Every time, he whined about how he wasn't tired or something.

-A few minutes ago-

"Big brother! I..."

"What?" Britain asked.

"I'm scared of the dark!" America squeaked out. _That's so different coming from America. He is usually not afraid of anything. Brave, almost._

Britain smiled. He knelt down to America's height.

"I'll always be here for you. You know that. The only thing to fear, no, avoid, is _France_," Britain said his name with an emphasis on disgust.

"France? Who's that? Why should I avoid him? Is he dangerous?" America yawned as Britain picked him up and carried him to bed.

"Ah, France? He's my archrival. We've been fighting each other for as long as I can remember. He's a bit...romatic? Maybe that's not the right word... Anyway, yes, he's very dangerous. I hate to admit it, but he is a worthy opponent when I fight him. Before I was your brother, or had any sort of siblings, we fought for a hundred years. It's so long ago I almost forget who won. I think I did. But, he is very unpredictable, so you need to make sure to stay far away from him. He might hurt you. Alright, America. Just remember that if you need me, I'm in the drawing room or my bedroom. Good night," Britain had told him about France while he carried the now drowsy America to his bedroom. It was rather lavish with white silk sheets and pillows stuffed with swans down. It had grand windows that looked over the garden and beyond that, the countryside. It was where the sun rises. America loved that, seeing the sunrise every morning.

_France..._ America thought.

**France POV**

He walked through the night. He shouldn't have brought troops. He knew that. It was just...if he didn't bring them, he wouldn't have a front if he questioned his being here. _Oh, yeah. Forgot I actually had something to get him back for. Doesn't he have that America brat?_

France smiled. He was only a day's journey by boat from Britain's shores now. He'd been traveling for a week, walking. His generals had advised him to be on horseback. He'd refused. He had dragged his tired soldiers for no reason. Well, technically there was a reason, but France wanted to negotiate a treaty for peace. He'd gotten tired of fighting Britain.

**Britain POV**

He took his last sip of tea. He'd finished the entire pot. He had an ominous feeling. _France? Could he be causing me this anxiety?_

"No," Britain shook his head.

A maid walked in, hearing his word, thinking it was another word for her to come in and assist him with something or to take away the tray of the teapot, sugar, and teacup.

"Sir? You called?" She asked politely.

He smiled. "No, I was just talking about how nice the tea set is. It's new, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, well, I've finished the tea. Could you take it?"

"Yes, sir." She walked over and picked up the tea set.

"Thank you, Sarah," Britain said as he looked out of the window into the darkness outside.

"You're very welcome sir. I'll send for Henry to get you to bed in an hour or so. Good night, sir," Sarah said as she left and accidently left the door open. Britain was about to call her back to make her close the door... _but America might get scared again so I suppose it was a smart move on for her to leave it like it is._

**France POV**

He'd made shocking time. He'd arrived nearly 12 hours ahead of schedule. He had no idea how he'd done it. A soldier approached him.

"Sir, we've made it our priority to make sure we got here as quickly as possible to the peace treaty is signed and our country can prosper. We have run it the whole day that is why we are here early. We are tired and we are not necessary, so we want you to go with the general to Sir Britain's mansion and have it signed. Is this alright with you, sir?" the soldier asked.

_So they saw through the fact I just brought them along so in case Britain declared war from me being on his shores? I expected nothing less...although, I am a bit shocked..._

"Yes. However, I'm going alone. General, you stay here to command the troops and make sure they don't loot anything," France ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes sir!" the soldier bowed deeply.

**Britain POV**

_It's got to be France! He is the only one who can cause me such anger at the thought of him even being on my shores!_

Britain stood. He flinched. Lightning had suddenly flashed. _When did it start raining? Did I doze off?_

When the lighting flashed again, he saw a figure running in the courtyard through the window. He ran to the window, trying to get a better view. He peered out, squinting.

Nothing.

"I'm imagining things," Britain laughed softly to himself.

_Still, because of the dark on top of the storm and lighting, I should check on America..._

He walked out, not caring to close the door behind him. America was more important in his mind than closing a lifeless door.

He strode over to America's door. He softly opened the door, walking in briskly. He looked at America's sleeping form. He was sound asleep, not even stirring at the constant scream of the lightning.

**France POV**

"Thanks, _Colette._"

"Sure. But you said half of the money after the first part, and that's done. All I have to do is make sure that the America brat doesn't get involved, right? Now, money. Hand it over," Sarah said.

"Ok, calm down. Here," France produced 365,843 euros (about half a million dollars). He handed it to her.

"Thanks. I'll lead the way," Sarah, or Colette said. France smiled and followed her. _She's the best double agent I have._

Colette led France into Britain's mansion, leading him to the drawing room.

**Britain POV**

He left America, knowing that he was safe. Safe from any strange anxiety attacks he would get. _Complete nonsense, the thoughts I have. I can't worry myself over stupid France. I need to take care of America._

He walked back to the drawing room. He frowned. He had left the light in the room on, but it was off. _Did I turn it off out of habit? Or did Sarah?_

He shook it off. Still, he kept a mental note of this.

He sat down and gazed at the courtyard, practically flooded from the rain. He glanced at the clock. 3am. He wasn't tired. Not in the least.

"Hello..." a voice purred.

Britain whipped around, anger flaring from the voice. He knew that voice.

"What the hell are you doing? Here! In my home! Get out! Now!" Britain roared, his anger getting the best of him. _I have to protect America!_

"I want you to sign my peace treaty," France purred, his voice purposefully seductive.

Britain's face was contorted from anger and surprise.

"What peace treaty? What makes you think I'll sign it?" Britain snarled.

"Oh, you'll sign it..." France smiled.

"Yeah right! In your dreams, you wine loving pervert!"

**America POV**

He heard footsteps. He was the kind of person who wouldn't normally wake up if all of the windows shattered, but a mouse running across the floorboards would immediately wake him. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He strained to see in the darkness, but his room immediately illuminated for a moment from the lightning. He flinched. _Big brother Britain! Help!_

America hid under the covers, afraid. _Alright, America. Just remember that if you need me, I'm in the drawing room or my bedroom. _Britain's words came to him. America grabbed his stuffed bear and headed to the drawing room.

**Britain POV**

"What? Do I have to fight you to make you go away?" Britain smirked.

"Well, if you're that eager to fight, then a fight it is," France pulled out a sword with his name engraved into it. Britain followed suit.

"I'm going to beat you, cheese monkey," Britain said, smirking.

"Oh? Well, we'll see about that..." France gave a smirk right back at Britain, which Britain scowled at.

France started first. He lunged then quickly turned on his heel to try to cut Britain's left side. Britain saw that attack coming and turned to block it. Their swords clashed, shaking from each user pushing against the other. Britain pulled his sword up and tried to catch France's ankle, swiping down. France was too slow. His ankle was on fire. He cringed, but looked up just in time to counter Britain's attack; Britain tried to stab his left arm. Britain immediately turned to try to slash his left arm again. He succeeds. However, he didn't see France's sword coming from the top right and slashing his chest. Britain bit his lip. He wouldn't show any more weakness than France would.

They continued countering and drawing blood until...

France pretended to collapse. His body fell from underneath him. He fell in such a way that his knees would hit the ground first and he could use the force of him falling to bounce right back up, turn, and stab Britain in the throat, killing him almost instantly. It worked. Britain's sword came from the left in his right hand, a very bad move. In this way, France moved his sword from his right hand to his left and swiped to the right, mirroring Britain. Shock rippled on Britain's face. His sword left his hand and France bounced back up, also using the momentum to turn and trip Britain. He caught Britain and pushed him under himself, so Britain now laid on the ground underneath France. France pinned Britain's hands under his and his kept his knees on Britain's legs, making sure that he wouldn't try to kick him.

Both of them panted, tired from the fight. It was short lived, though. France smiled down at Britain, holding his sword at Britain's throat.

"Ready to die, Britain?" France smiled as the lightning lit up his face in an eerie way.

"France! Let me go!"

**America POV**

America arrived at the drawing room. He opened the door and peered inside. At first, it was pitch black. Then lightning illuminated his nightmares.

"big brother..."

"AMERICA! RUN!" Britain yelled out.

"Colette! Grab the brat!" France ordered.

Colette grabbed America, which was easy since the brat didn't make a move, and made sure he couldn't escape from her grasp.

"S-sarah?" America squeaked out.

"Nope. I'm French," she smirked at him.

His eyes were wide, trying to take in all this information.

**Britain POV**

He told America to run! He didn't move an inch! Still, he had to get out from France's grasp and get America and get out.

"France. Let America go. You can do what you like to me. Just let him go," Britain said in a quiet voice.

"Sorry, I can't," France said.

"Why the bloody hell not?" Britain screamed.

"It's more fun seeing you struggle like this."

"Shut up you arse!"

**France POV**

"Colette, get the rope and tie up the America brat, then the Brit here," France said.

"Sure," Sarah/Colette said.

"Britain..." America quivered. He shook, but did not fight back as Colette tied him and blindfolded him. She held him up like an ornament next to her. He just hung there, lifeless.

"You bastard! Let Alfred go! Or I'll kill you!" Britain was seething with rage. He began to thrash, finally after having caught his breath. He stopped almost immediately because the wound on his chest was still very fresh and painful.

"How exactly do you plan on doing that..._Britain?_" France leaned down and purred his name in Britain's ear. Britain's face flushed bright red as he gritted his teeth. It wasn't his fault though. Anyone would blush if the king of love was towering over you and whispered in your ear. Britain glared at him.

"You look kind of cute like that, _Arthur_."

**Britain POV**

Britain decided he didn't care. He didn't care that France was practically crushing him, he was bleeding out, or that France was being weird again and trying to seduce him. Nope. Not caring. He'd had enough of having to take his personal matters into account when he was deciding what his next move should be, for anything. He was going to save America, no matter what it took.


	2. Henry

**America POV**

_Fight back! Britain will never forgive you if you die here! And I'll never forgive you if you just let him die! You can't let Britain die! Fight back, dammit! Did Britain teach you nothing of how to fight? He knew that being the most powerful country that having a younger sibling would just make you vulnerable, other countries with a grudge against Britain would want to hurt him more than any wound could ever inflict. That's why he taught you to fight, for in the case that he couldn't help you, you were capable. You are capable! Deal with this just like brother Britain would! He'd think of you as a waste of time and energy if you don't use the skills he taught you!_

America decided he had to fight back. That was the only option.

He felt his body being placed near another.

"A-America..." the voice coughed after that. America remained quiet.

America twisted his hands backwards to feel the rope's thickness. _It's not very thick._

America began to try to pull apart the rope. To his surprise, it made small popping vibrations. He exerted more force and the rope began to rip. _It's working!_

**Britain POV**

He began to think hard about his situation. He hadn't done anything that recent to merit this attack. France coming straight on his shores meant war. Because Britain had America, that just made the situation more complicated. _France...what are you doing? What are you doing here?_

He decided to ask.

"F-france..." Britain coughed up blood. He was mildly surprised.

"Hm? What is it?"

"Why're you here? I—," Britain coughed more. "I didn't do anything of late. Explain."

This had caught France off guard.

"Don't you remember? You tried to kill my sailors when they were delivering wine to London..." France tried to play it off as it was a real reason.

"Liar."

"What?! Why am I a liar?" France yelled as Colette tied up the last knots to Britain's hands and wrapped it around his back and stomach, coming around again to tie America to him. (France wanted her to tie the both together so it would e easy to kill both of them should they get away).

Britain struggled to stand, especially with the ever-growing America strapped to his back.

"Then explain to me why you're suddenly here with a peace treaty?" Britain snarled.

"Because I want to make sure peace it maintained!"

"Yeah right. You know that you're going to violate that even if I don't retaliate from this," Britain fell to his knees from the blood loss and the weight of America. He tried to stand again, and managed to make a run for the door, which happened to still be open.

"And I'm going to!" Britain ran off. France's eyes widened, but didn't go after them.

**France POV**

"Colette, wait," France said, laughing with tears streaming down his face. _Britain, no, Arthur, I loved you. Must you be so ignorant?_

"But sir—" Colette started.

"Don't go after them. I've frightened them enough already.

She sighed. "Yes, sir."

**America POV**

"Britain sir..." America whispered as Britain ran into a random room.

"Shhh, America, we don't want France finding us," Britain said as he freed himself then America.

"Britain," America said firmly.

Britain looked up, surprised.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"You've been teaching me to fight, but yet...I've failed you. You've wasted your time on me. I'm worthl—"

Britain scowled at him as he slapped him hard on the face. America's face froze as he reached up a hand to touch the bright pink area on his cheek.

"Don't you dare say that," Britain said, almost the same tone he used with France.

America remained quiet.

"You're not worthless. You're going to be one of the most important countries out there, and I'm going to see through to that. Also, you didn't have access to a weapon, and I haven't taught you how to fight without one. It's my fault..." Britain ruffed America's hair.

America smiled as he suddenly hugged Britain.

"Hey, don't do that!" Britain didn't try to peel America off though. He hesitantly hugged America back. _America..._

**France POV**

"Sir! I strongly suggest we go after them! You still owe me! And it'll be easy to follow them because of Britain's trail of blood," Colette stated.

France looked at her. "Fine."

They walked out, just following the trail of blood.

"Britain...oh Britain...lovely Britain...where are you?" France sang out.

"Sir, please stop singing. It's very strange," Colette struggled to find words to express her discomfort but at the same time show him the error of his actions.

"Britain...lovely beautiful Britain...where _art thou_?" France mocked.

_He's not listening._ A nerve popped out of Colette's head.

**Britain POV**

He heard it. The blood curdling, gut twisting _sound._ France.

"America, listen closely. I want you to hide somewhere in here, ok? France is coming to get me, perhaps the both of us. I want you to hide. If you don't, I'm going to have to make you, and/or France is going to kill you. Is that clear?" Britain's tone left no room for arguments.

"Y-yes, Britain...sir," America said as he ran off.

It was a rather spacious room, full of little knickknacks. He found a chest, full of shiny objects. It wasn't very well lit, so he couldn't see if it was just regular metal or not.

He climbed into the chest and closed it.

Britain looked around. His vision was starting to get more and more foggy. _Am I turning into America with bad eyesight?_ He frantically looked around for a medical box, for some gauze at least. He found a box and dragged himself to it. He took off his jacket and shirt, revealing a rather nasty wound. He cringed. Still, he grabbed a handkerchief that was sitting elsewhere and dabbed the excess blood. He wrapped the gauze around himself until the whole wound was covered. He stood, shaking. He grabbed a cane and walked himself over to a mountain of boxes. He decided to hide there.

It was still nighttime. Britain was now officially exhausted. _No...I can't fall asleep...I've got to protect America..._

Still, he was out cold.

**France POV**

He walked into the room. He was amazed by all of the items Britain had just neglected and left to collect dust here. He smiled when he was a peace treaty he'd tried to give Britain a couple centuries ago. It was torn in two, one piece on a chair and the other...well, that was for another day.

"Britain...where are you? Do you want to play hide-and-seek?" France sang out.

Britain didn't respond. Neither did the America brat.

He decided he would just have to turn over every stone to find what he's looking for.

-Three Hours Later-

Well, he'd found the America brat. He was screaming for Britain.

"Britain! Britain! BRITAIN! BROTHER! NII-SAN!" America thrashed as France held him up by the back of his pajamas. He began to cry.

"Stop crying, brat," France said. _I really hate little countries who can't do anything but cry if their seniors are captured by another stronger country._

America didn't listen.

"Britain! Britain! Britain!" America was wailing so loudly he was sure his troops could hear him.

France sighed as he ran his free hand through his hair. "Sorry kid. Don't want to this, but you're getting on my nerves."

"Huh?" America suddenly stopped.

France hit the back of America's neck as he began to turn around to face him in fear. America was unconscious.

France had spent too much time here. His troops must be getting restless. France looked around for a piece of paper and a pen. He wound up going through more stuff, unknowingly just a couple of inches away from Britain's sleeping form. He wrote quickly, writing this: _**I assume you've woken up by now. I have your little brother. Sign the treaty and bring it back to me in a week. If you don't, say goodbye to America. –France**_

-One Hour Later-

**Britain POV**

France...he had America. He was seriously beginning to believe that bastard's reasons for the peace treaty. _He doesn't want war...but he doesn't want peace? He came all this way, it seems, just to pop in and say 'hullo'. Hullo, huh? Idiot. He wants war. He wants war because...he wants America? No, if he wanted America he'd have made his move years ago. Then the only option is...me. Wait. Me? He wants _me_?! No, no. Do not take it that way. France doesn't want children with me, does he? Is that why he came? To say 'hullo' and that's why he wants war? He wants war because he wants to be close to me? He had a full hundred years to make a move on me! France! You suck! I'm so killing you after I get America!_

Britain stood, quickly grabbing the cane to prevent him from falling. He hobbled out of the room, looking for France, just to see if he'd just left.

He looked out of the first window he found. He looked frantically for America, and by extension, France. Nothing. He gritted his teeth until his jaws couldn't take it anymore.

He had to get in touch with the war office. The general. He was going to kill France.

**Britain POV**

He walked to the servant's quarters and entered. He hadn't expected this. A maid and a butler...sharing a bed...making questionable sounds. His eyebrows raised and his mouth opened, unsure of what to say. When they looked up, shock rippled in their faces. He turned away, walking forward to get someone else to properly patch him up.

"Henry!" Britain yelled out. A butler quickly came forward.

"Yes, sir?" Henry was still in his nighttime attire. Britain didn't care.

"Get a medic. I need one. Get me the general, while you're at it," Britain lowered himself on the floor to sit. Standing was really taking its toll.

"Y-Yes sir!" Henry was new here. He was a young man, handsome enough for Britain to hear whispers of the maids around the house. They would giggle quietly. Until Britain shot them a look of disgust. They quickly sobered up and briskly walked away. He smirked.

Britain sighed as he thought about the night. Dawn was going to break in a half hour or so. He looked through the window. Streaks of pink and orange licked the sky's lower edge. The majority was still black.

_America..._

"Sir! Please come this way," Henry supported Britain as he lifted him up and walked him to a chair where a medic was waiting. She smiled. Henry handed him the phone. _I'm multitasking with pain tolerance and hearing the general yell to me about the fact I woke him up? Great..._

"Henry," Britain said as he took the phone. "Tea."

"Yes sir," Henry ducked away to get the tea.

Britain lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Britain asked.

"_Arthur!_ Do you know what the hell time it is? You've woken me up! What is the matter now?!" the general yelled out. Britain cringed as the medic pulled off the bandages and swabbed it clean with an antiseptic cloth.

"It's France. He took America," Britain sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, the medic flinched as she continued.

"_What?! How did this happen?"_

"I'm not in a comfortable or private enough place to say. However, I only have a week to get America back unless he's either killed or turned into France's slave," Britain said quietly, trying to make sure the maid didn't hear enough to gossip or spread rumors. He knew he couldn't avoid France's appearance or America's disappearance. Plus the fact that he was injured just made it worse. The maid might go and say to her fellow maids: 'Hey, I treated Britain last night. He was really badly injured. I think he fought with France. You think we're going to another war? Because France took America.' Then the other maid would say: 'Britain is going to be so heartbroken. It's his only brother too. What should we do to make Britain feel better?' Then the other maid would say: 'Cake?' The other: 'Yeah!' Then they'd go on their merry ways with a meaningless cake. A cake he wouldn't eat. A cake that would only remind him of America. And his absence. This gossiping would only cause Britain more pain. Not something he needed, both the metaphorical and physical.

The general sighed. "Well, I'll come by at 10. How's that?"

"Yes, that would be great. Thank you for being able to listen to me," Britain stated formally. He cringed as the medic wrapped him up in fresh bandages.

"Nothing I wouldn't do for your sake and America's," the general sighed.

"Thank you. See you at 10."

"Good-bye, Britain."

"Good-bye."

Britain hung up the phone. _My vision..._

**Henry POV**

Britain fainted.

Henry had just come back with the tea set. He shoved it in another servant's arms and ran to catch Britain.

"Britain sir!" Henry caught him just in time. Henry walked, no, dragged, Britain to his bedroom. He laid Britain on his bed and pulled the covers on him. Britain opened his eyes and slowly looked at Henry.

"H-Henry..." Britain whispered.

"Yes, sir?" Henry asked.

"The general is coming at 10 to meet with me. I need..." Britain coughed.

"Do you need soup and water? Or some tea? Or jam?"

"Soup...and tea," Britain sighed. Henry lifted his hand to Britain's head.

"Sir, you have a rather high fever. I shall bring back the tea and soup and cloth to bring down your fever when they are ready. I'll be back soon. Please rest, sir," Henry urged.

Henry ran down the hallway.

_Such a good kid..._ Britain thought.


	3. Emotionless

**A/N If you're British and you know it's history, sorry for OC-ness. **

**Britain POV**

He felt a hand shaking his shoulder, shaking harder as time passed.

"America...go back to bed," Britain mumbled in his pillow.

"Ah, sir, I'm not America. Please get up. The general is going to be here in an hour," Henry stopped shaking Britain's shoulder.

"Wha? Oh, Henry, it's you," Britain looked up with shame and embarrassment.

"Sir, I am not your personal butler, so I've laid out your clothes on the chair. What would you like to eat for a late breakfast?" Henry smiled nervously, never having been this close to the head of the house.

Britain blinked awake. "Scone..."

"Yes, sir. I'll get that ready in the dining hall," Henry ran off.

Britain slowly got up, cringing as he moved. His wound hadn't healed yet. He pushed himself to sit up. He looked down at his bandages. He saw trickles of pink seeping through. He snickered. _So much for having to multi-task..._

He decided he didn't want to be seen with a cane. He walked with his lip on the verge of being ripped apart by his teeth. He undressed himself and pulled on his regular attire. He stepped into his shoes and walked out, trying to maintain a regular gait. He glanced at the clock on his way out. It was 10 till 10. Britain's eyes widened as he ran to the dining hall.

He turned a corner and slammed right into a little kid.

"America?!" Britain asked, his eyes full of disbelief.

"Huh? America?" the child asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. But, who are you?" Britain said, his voice turning to his normal serious one.

"I'm...uh...her daughter!" the girl said. She pointed to a very well dressed woman. The woman gave him a cold glare. He flinched.

"Thanks," Britain brushed himself off. He walked to the woman.

"Miss, what's your name?"

"How impolite! Already hitting on me the moment he sees me! Someone do something!" she yelled. She turned her gaze to an even colder one. "And if you'd really like to know, I'm King Henry VIII's first wife. I can't believe you didn't recognize me! And who are _you_ anyway? Some commoner who weaseled their way into this horrid place of a _building?_"

Henry appeared, looking a bit shaken up and even more so when he saw the predicament that Britain was in.

"Britain sir, the general is waiting," Henry nodded to the woman.

"A-aha, Henry. I was just coming," Britain smiled and scratched his neck nervously. He shot her a look of victory and her face was priceless; total shock.

"Britain."

"Yes?" Britain asked, still bowing.

"Ah, I wouldn't know how to say this and make it sound a tad strange, but..." the general trailed on as he motioned for Britain to sit.

"It is about America?" Britain asked, waving his hand to say he preferred standing. The general was shocked. He'd slightly expected Britain to have more emotion in his voice, especially when it came to his little brother, the last of his family who still lived with him and who he cared about the most.

Britain must've seen it because he continued.

"General, please do not worry about me. We need to find France and get the real reason for his 'peace treaty'," Britain said flatly.

"Yes..."

"Is there anything else, sir? I advise we strike by land in the night. France may be expecting me at his doorstep at any time, but I doubt he'll be expecting me to strike the night after. We must hurry if we'd like to have surprise on our side. That is all I have to say. You are in charge of organizing the rest. I am very busy dealing with the king right now, and I'm sorry I can't help otherwise. If you need my approval for anything, just call," Britain said with a tone of finality.

"Britain. You seem awfully...for lack of a better term, dead. Perhaps depressed," the general pressed.

Britain was caught off guard with this remark. However, he kept his surprise well hidden.

"As I had said before, please do not worry. We have much more pressing matters. If war breaks out, the last thing you should be worrying about is my well-being, and me General," Britain bowed again.

The General paused. No, hesitated.

"Ah...yes, you're right, Britain. I'll keep in close contact with you in the coming hours," the General dismissed him as he followed Britain out.


	4. That Night

**A/N I just wanted to thank the six of you that followed this story. Arigatou gozaimashita (bow)! Originally, I hadn't expected to get anyone. At first, no one followed...hahahahaha! Well, that was awkward. I just wanted to...um...say that...yeah... I hope you enjoy reader-tachi! ^^**

**Henry POV**

"Britain sir...are you all right?" Henry approached Britain, who'd been in the storage room, sitting on an old chair and looked as if his mind was elsewhere. However, if one was to draw a line from his eyes to something he was looking at, if blankly, it would be his old gun.

"Sir...are you all right?" Henry asked again. Britain was still in his trance, staring blankly at the gun.

_Just go away..._

Henry looked torn as to leave the doorway to either shake Britain or just leave him be. _What would I do if James were like this?_

"Hey...Henry," Britain started. His eyes looked the same though. Still lifeless.

"A-ah yes, sir?" Henry smiled nervously, having been caught with his mind wandering.

"What would you do?" Britain asked, a faint smile trying to surface on his mouth.

"Me? Are you referring to what I would do if my sibling was taken?" Henry stood up straighter. It wasn't a subject he liked to touch up on.

"Yeah..."

"Well, I'd..." Henry paused. _What would I do anyway?_

"I'd get him back," Henry decided.

"That's good," Britain's face turned paler as he gave a mirthless smile.

"Ah, sir...I'm going to get some soup and tea for you. You've skipped lunch and dinner," Henry informed him. Britain nodded.

Henry closed the door behind him.

**Britain POV**

Britain stood up, shakily. He hadn't brought his cane over either. Still, he hauled himself up and took ginger steps over to the door. He turned the knob and the door creaked open to the hallway. It was dark outside and he supposed Henry had ordered the lights to be off in this part of the hallway so he wouldn't see his blood on the floors. However, as he closely peered on the ground, he saw shades of the carpet darker than the rest. It was hardly noticeable after the maids had spent hours cleaning it off. Bloodstains were...quite difficult to get out.

Britain sighed. He wandered off in his own mansion, just wanting to be alone.

There was this one time that America had wandered off in the mansion. He'd run practically in circles to get back to Britain. Eventually, he'd run into a room, which was dreadfully dark. He'd begun to panic. He'd started to scream and run not in the direction of Britain's voice calling him back. America had seemingly run away from all people and towards...perhaps another person. Britain frowned as he thought about that day. _But later, hours of searching, stretching into the night, I finally found him underneath a huge pile of fur coats. He was running an awful fever, but he seemed fine after that...right? _

But after that day, America hadn't been the same. He'd seemed just more...oh, what was the word..._And the way he looked at France...just what happened that night?_

Britain made himself walk normally to walk about the mansion to clear his mind and focus solely on that night.

He'd been walking for an hour, barely hearing the cries of Henry and others calling him out to eat.

He stopped. _America...I'm...so sorry..._

His eyes widened and his legs gave way to gravity as the voices faded and his mind when blank. He'd figured out what had happened that night. _How could I be such an __**idiot**_ _and _not_ figure that out?! _He slumped against the wall as his knees lowered themselves to the floor. He grasped his head and tried his hardest not to cry. He'd been the most oblivious brother of all.

France had done something to America so terrifying to a young country that America had just refused to confide in Britain and even convinced himself that it never happened. Britain had to find out.

Britain rose as the maids shouted at him and others to stop him.

He walked and quickly picked up his pace. His eyes were glazed over and his mind was nowhere to be found except to focus on a few select words: _America... _and _sorry_.

Britain was running towards the room that led to the entryway to the back of the manor. It had a lake that eventually connected to the ocean. To America.

**(Preview!)**

**Next time: **

"France! Just what on the bloody earth did you do to my _little brother?!"_

"Britain, there's no need to—"

"AND WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS HE, YOU BASTARD?!"

A single candle suddenly glowed. It illuminated a face that showed no recognition to the tea-loving country.

"A-America..."

"Who's _America?"_


End file.
